Turn To Me by Tiffany A. Snow Read Free Book Online Page B

don't think I'd realized how lonely I'd been before Blane. 
    It had really meant something to me to have people to spend Thanksgiving with this year.  Usually, I just heated up a TV dinner and watched the Macy's parade.  This year, Blane's housekeeper, Mona, who had also been Blane's nanny growing up, had made a fancy turkey with all the trimmings.  Although it had just been Mona, her husband Gerard, Blane and myself, it had been homey and nice.  Remembering it put a smile on my face.
    When I woke, Blane was no longer in bed with me.  I stretched, hearing the sounds of the shower running.  I winced at a few aches and pains, but overall I felt better than I had last night.  Rolling out of bed, I shivered in the cold air and quickly pulled on a pair of sweats, shoving my feet into hot pink fuzzy slippers.  Stopping to glance in the mirror, I grimaced at the livid purple and blue bruise on my cheek.  The scrape on my cheekbone had scabbed over as well.  Lovely.
    Thankfully, Blane had already made coffee.  I poured a cup and carried it to my living room.  Looking out the window, I was delighted to see that it was snowing.  I disliked the cold but loved the snow.  Go figure.  Too bad you couldn't have one without the other.
    I sipped my coffee for a few minutes, watching the thick flakes settle on the ground outside, already blanketed with what looked like two or three inches.  The trees had turned into works of art, their dark branches now starkly outlined in white.  Even the grunginess of the neighborhood in which I lived seemed briefly washed away by the curtain of falling snow.
    I heard Blane come out of the bathroom and felt him behind me.  His arms slid around my waist in a light hug and I leaned back against him. We watched the snow falling outside my window.
    “Good morning,” he said, squeezing me lightly. 
    “Good morning to you,” I replied with a contented sigh.  “Thanks for making the coffee.”  Blane knew that my morning priority was always getting my hands on that first cup.  Seriously.  Don't even speak to me until I've had my coffee.
    It was a nice moment and I was loathe to ruin it, but I had questions, things Blane and I needed to discuss.  I steeled my resolve and shook off the compulsion to just ignore what had happened last night and pretend everything was okay.
    “When were you going to tell me about the trial?  James?  Running for Governor?  The Senator?” I asked, my gaze still fixed outside.  “Were you going to tell me at all?”
    Blane stiffened.  I tensed as well, unsure how this was going to play out.  He could very well call it quits at this point, after all, that was his M.O. - women were a diversion and none of them were allowed to get close.  I knew what I was asking, but after last night, I realized I wanted to be a part of his life.  I wanted to know what worried him, what he cared most about, what kept him awake at night.  I wanted more than just great sex and a dinner companion.  I just wasn't sure if he was willing to offer it.
      After a few tense moments, he answered me.  “It's not like I've been hiding the trial from you, Kathleen,” he said reproachfully.  I winced.  He was using my full name, not a good sign.  “It's been in the news.  I just haven't spoken about it much.”
    So he had expected me to know about it, probably thinking I was a featherbrained idiot for not knowing.  My face heated, but I came back at him.  “And James?  You didn't think it significant to tell me you were up against him?  You know how crazy he is and he's obsessed with beating you.”
    “I didn't want you to worry,” he said calmly.  “I can handle James.”
    “I care about you,” I said stiffly.  “Of course I'm going to worry.”
    He turned me around, his jaw locking tight when he saw my bruised face.  The backs of his fingers gently brushed against my skin and his eyes glittered with an unnamed emotion.
    “Likewise,” he said softly.
    I